


Stiles is a Kinky Boy

by GlibbityGlop



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Controversial, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, First Time, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rape/Non-con References, Triggers, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:37:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlibbityGlop/pseuds/GlibbityGlop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, Christopher," says Gerard Argent. "If you want to defeat a werewolf, you must learn all you can about it. The more we understand, the easier we can predict and then stop the things." </p><p>"But, really, mating habits?" Chris asks.</p><p>Warning: fucked-upness ahead. Make sure you can handle the tags before going further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles is a Kinky Boy

There was some funky pheromone in the air or something. Stiles didn't know specifics. He knew Gerard Argent was responsible. Stiles would have revenge. Oh boy, would he. Later. Much, much… later.

Right now he had other things to deal with.

"Must ask Allison on Monday," Stiles muttered to himself, hands fumbling at Derek's belt, face turned to the side so that Derek's breath gusted hot and wet like soup over the side of his face. "I wonder if Scott's ever wolfed out during sex?"

Derek growls, nose and stubble running over Stiles' cheekbone and jaw. Red eyes are above him, flashing terribly so Stiles can't look without wetting himself. His fingers manage to get the leather unbuckled and open so his fingers can brush against the roughness of denim. Dangerous claws drag through the dirt on either side of Stiles' body, leaving deep furrows.

Stiles pants at the sight, Derek's hand a few inches from his face as he repeats the action. Like a kitty at the corner of a couch. Only much larger and more lethal.

"Dad," Chris Argent says from a few feet away. He sighs and digs his feet into the dirt, head pointedly looking away. "This… seems wrong."

"Oh, Christopher," says Gerard in his wavery voice. "If you want to defeat a werewolf, you must learn all you can about it. The more we understand, the easier we can predict and then stop the things."

"But, really, mating habits?" Chris asks.

"Be quiet," snaps Gerard.

"Hey," Stiles calls out, voice shaking like his hands as he manages to undo Derek's button and fly despite Derek making odd purr-ing like noises as he nuzzles into Stiles' neck, sniffing deeply. "Hey, if you guys, you know, wanna let me go… that'd be cool. C'mon guys. This really isn't necessary."

Derek growls and bites at the throbbing veins in his neck, not drawing blood but causing Stiles to yowl and twitch.

"Oh, shit. What if he bites me?" Stiles calls out. He can't think of anything except; if Derek bites him, these men and their family will do their best to kill him. He doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to be a werewolf… well, more not than yes.

"The boy has a point," Chris says, walking forwards as Stiles pushes Derek's pants down over his hips until they rest on his legs, the leather of the belt a stripe lying on the crease of his thighs and cupping his buttocks.

Strong hands gripped Derek by the back of his leather jacket and pull him a foot up and back. Stiles lay back, panting gratefully. "Thank you," he aims at Chris's face where it appears over Derek's shoulder.

"It's not over boy. We'll stop him biting you. You get your pants off," Gerard ordered.

"What!?" asks Stiles. He lies back as Derek makes an attempt forward, Chris grimacing at the struggle. Nails drag across the ground, managing to grip Stiles' hips and drag him back under Derek's body.

"Get the harness," Chris yells over his shoulder.

Stiles is preoccupied, hands clutching at Derek's ears as the older man sniffs over his exposed stomach, shirt rucked up to around his nipples. A tongue slips into his bellybutton and Stiles groans in general frustration at circumstances, trying to pull Derek's face away, remembering how Scott and Jackson and Boyd were all bitten on their side. He doesn't know if Derek's being compelled to turn him as some sort of side effect of Derek wanting to mate him, but he'd rather not take that chance.

"Get your pants off," Chris suggests, panting from exertion.

Stiles looks up at him, betrayed. Derek growls and *lunges*, and Stiles whimpers. Derek manages to slip Chris's grip and then Derek is there, on top of him, fingers entwining with Stiles' so he can wrench their hands upwards through the dirt, leaving Stiles' body spread out except for where his legs are spread to accommodate Derek's bulk between them. He can feel cool air ghosting over his stomach. He hopes that there are no bugs beneath him. Derek is panting directly into his mouth, forcing air into Stiles' mouth, changing his breathing rhythm to Derek's. Stiles feels his chest expand with the hot air, taking the chance to hurriedly breath out when Derek breathes in before the next gust of rough air into him, scratching his throat on the inside like Derek's stubble did on the outside.

Gerard coughs inI the background, going about his business as if there were business as usual.

"Dad, the harness!" Chris yells. Hands are on Derek's back again and Chris manages to lift him a few inches higher. Derek's hands leave Stiles' and the werewolf turns to swipe at Chris.

Stiles feels hysterical, turning his head again so he can breathe on his own. He undoes his jeans, thrusting them down his legs until he can't reach them anymore, trapping his calves together.

He looks back up as the coughing grows nearer, Gerard handing Chris something. Chris lets Derek go and then Derek is back, eyes red and holding Stiles' gaze as if hypnotic. Derek growls and Stiles can feel it vibrating the bones inside his chest.

"Don't look him in the eye. It's a sign of aggression."

Stiles chokes and closes his eyes, tilting his head back. Derek noses at his throat, under his chin and his collarbone as if snuffling for treats.

"Good boy," Gerard croons and Stiles wants to spit on him. He can't see what the Argents are doing but Derek makes this noise like he's angry, pointed teeth scratching over his Adam's apple and then Derek is yowling like a puppy with a stood-on paw. Stiles look up, eyelids half-closed just in case.

There's this contraption on Derek's head; literally a harness. There's a bit in his mouth, teeth bared, a spongy tube between his lips and emerging on either side. Leather straps are connected to it, as well as a strap across his forehead. At the back there's a leash that Chris is holding onto, more easily keeping Derek back. The combination of the harness with the teeth and glowing eyes is unsettling.

Stiles is seriously freaking out when a hand clenches in his hair as best is able (when there are werewolves and hunters and Alpha packs and all sort of nonsense running around, there's not much time to book a haircut, okay? But he is definitely getting one after this) and wrenches his head to the side. Stiles is forced to turn onto his side to avoid having his neck broken, and a boot on his shoulder shoved him full onto his front.

Derek's claws get a hold of Stiles' hips, pulling him back so that Stiles' butt can feel sharp hipbones digging in atop them. Rivulets of blood worm down from the scrapes over his hips and butt onto the dirt below.

"He's going to rip him open," Chris fusses. Not inappropriately, Stiles thinks.

"No he's not, is he Stiles?" asks Gerard.

Stiles looks up, glaring at the man. The timing of his abduction wasn't a coincidence then. Or at least was a very lucky one. Stiles had barely had the time to shove some clothes on and kick his sex toy under the bed before Gerard's men had burst into his bedroom. (He was still technically a virgin, but hey, he hadn't been the one in charge of putting a man's G-spot up his ass.)

He was grateful his father hadn't been home, fearing what Gerard's men might have done to him. He was grateful he'd practised the manoeuvre of pulling his clothes back on in less than two seconds after that one time his dad had come home early from work. He was terrified of the thought of what could have happened if he hadn't moved so fast. He was anxious about what was about to happen.

"Let's make sure you're wet enough," Gerard chuckled, ending in a hacking cough. He brought out a tub like lip gloss from one of his pockets and slowly untwisted the cap. "Pull the animas back," Gerard ordered and Stiles panted into the dirt as the warmth and pressure atop him disappeared. Claws raked over the dip of his spine and curve of his ass in longing. Stiles winced at the feeling and gasped a second after Derek roared angrily when Gerard knelt next to him on the ground.

One hand went to between Stiles' shoulder blades, helping to steady Gerard and keep Stiles down, the other hand dipped into his crease and fingertips circled his hole. Lube from earlier was still there but cold and tacky. Stiles grit his teeth and clenched his fists on the ground as Gerard pushed two aged fingers inside of him, thumb brushing back and forth over the rim of his hole.

"There you go," Gerard crooned. "Wet like a bitch."

"Not as wet as your daughter would have been." Stiles didn't even know where that came from.

There was a snarl and Gerard stood jerkily. "I would like to hurt you. But your new werewolf boyfriend is about to do that for me. Let him go," he told Chris.

Stiles braced himself but nonetheless had the air punched out of him when Derek landed back on top of him. Knees dug into the gap between his, forcing his legs apart. Derek spread his knees in the dirt, taking Stiles' legs with him. Stiles' jeans slid from his calves down to his ankles and caught on his shoes, leaving his legs spread like a diamond. Derek's feet rested heavy atop his ankles.

Derek was braced above him, hips rolling, erection prodding his crease and sliding between his cheeks, fucking easily through the spread of lube. Hands sat either side of Stiles' head, claws digging into the ground. Stiles gasped and rode out the feeling of literally being humped into the ground, hipbones and his dick grinding against earth and pebbles.

"Here, let me help you out," Gerard offered, kneeling beside them. Derek made an aborted growl, the bit in his mouth keeping him from biting Gerard. Stiles acted as an anchor for the werewolf, Derek unwilling to move even when Gerard leant forward and gripped Derek's erection. Somehow this felt even more intimate than when Gerard had had his fingers inside of him. Stiles froze as he felt the flared heard at his hole. Derek thrust and on the second attempt, penetrated.

Gerard reared back, smile like a sickle on his face. He looked Stiles in the eyes and said sweetly, "You're welcome."

Stiles mouth was open, simply because he had too much going on internally to keep it shut. His eyebrows pulled down in disbelief at his best friend's girlfriend's grandfather.

Derek was thrusting like if he fucked deep enough, he'd be able to physically split Stiles in two. Stiles focused on his breathing, trying to relax. Derek was… well, he wasn't small but it's not like he was going to make it in porn on cock size alone. He could handle this, he just had to relax.

As if sensing his thoughts, Derek mewled behind him, hands sliding over his back and shoulders in a petting motion. The sponginess of Derek's gag rubbed over the knobs of his spine at the back of his neck, slick with Derek's saliva. Chris grunted, and Derek's head moved a few inches higher.

It didn't stop Derek from hunching forwards and fucking into Stiles like a piston. It was too fast, too rough. Stiles was too new to this, too anxious. It hurt at the circle of muscles at his entrance that wouldn't unclench fully, forced open around the thick stalk of Derek's cock that never fully withdrew from him. He wasn't the least bit hard, and possibly only slightly aroused, stupid emotions and irresponsible reactions to things.

Derek's legs spread again, causing strain on Stile's ankles. Stiles grit his teeth, smelling the dirt beneath him as he focused his attention on kicking off his shoes. One came off easily, the second not so. He realised after a minute that it didn't matter and managed to get his jean leg off that leg by pushing back up into Derek's thrust. And… oh… moving back felt good. Much better than being forced forwards.

With his ankles unbound his legs were able to spread fully, letting him cant his hips back and rolling them backwards into Derek's thrusts. He couldn't keep up with Derek, no way in hell, and he felt ridiculous, and was fully aware of Gerard Argent's stupid shiny shoes in the corner of his vision.

"Are you filming this?" Gerard asked.

*What?* thought Stiles.

"Oh, yes. Make sure to get the way, no, wait, give it here." There was a sound behind them, and Derek got closer, head burrowed in Stiles' shoulder. "This is a better angle. Look at the way the bitch responds, fucking himself eagerly on the Alpha's cock."

"Fuck off!" Stiles spat, high-pitched and winded, keeping his hips rolling so that Derek's cock slid inside of him easier. He blushed, knowing a werewolf sex video would exist with Gerard's commentary and the illusion Stiles was enjoying this, that he wanted more. His erection was growing, but he still felt only slightly interested in the proceedings.

"How's it feel?" Gerard asked. "How's the big bad wolf feel inside of you, Red Riding Hood?"

That was so cheesy Stiles actually laughed. Again, that felt better. Not so stressed or anxious, he was able to accept Derek more easily into his body.

"Tell me," Gerard ordered. There was a zippy electric noise and Stiles looked up to see a Taser-type thing. Blue electricity danced at the end. It was waved in front of his face menacingly, coming half a centimetre from connecting with the tip of his nose. "Now!"

"…Big," Stiles choked. "Ah," he groaned. "'e's big."

"What else?"

"Grrrnnff. Hurts."

"Uh-huh. Tell me more."

Stiles looked up and then immediately ducked his face when he saw the camera was /right there/.

"Tell me, little Red. Or we'll have a problem."

"He's fucking me okay? He's really strong. It feels like… like he's trying to force all of himself inside of me."

"Uh-huh. Can you feel his knot?"

"His what?"

"His knot. As an Alpha, it's rumoured werewolves can knot their mates."

"I don't know-"

"It's about the size of a tennis ball, at the base of their cocks. Make you feel like a turkey getting stuffed full. When your Alpha knots you, he forces that bulge inside of your pretty little virgin ass and ties the two of you together."

"How… how long? Would that last?"

"Well we don't know, Stilinksi. That's what the camera's for."

Stiles panted into the ground, small rocks blowing away from the force of his breath. "You think he's going to knot me?" Because, damn, it was almost starting to feel good. He definitely got why people under different circumstances may do this recreationally.

"If he doesn't, we'll just have to do this all over again."

"Fuck," Stiles muttered into the ground. He yelped as hands gripped his biceps, shoving the top half of his torso against the ground. He turned his face so he wouldn't suffocate and saw Gerard's fingers, camera between them. He turned his head in the other direction to see Chris Argent staring down at him, frowning but managing to look blank. He loosely held the leash in one hand.

"This is why Allison mustn't date Scott," Gerard chuckled. "Imagine this happening to your precious little girl."

Chris's face twisted into a grimace of distaste.

Stiles was so busy concentrating, waiting for that larger-than-normal bulge at his opening to signify a knotting that it took completely by surprise when Derek came inside of him. He groaned long and loudly, hips still jerking back and forwards. His hipbones pushed into Stiles' ass as he ground as deep as possible, pinning Stiles down.

"How long was that?"

"About six minutes," Chris answered.

Stiles panted, Derek collapsing heavily on top of him. "It was way longer than that," Stiles protested.

"No. Roughly six minutes," Chris told him.

"I'm never going to be able to sit down again," Stiles murmured to himself, feeling his hole twitch around the length still skewering him open.

"What was that young man? I do hope you're ready for round two."

"What!?"

"Dad! Look… maybe it's because he's male. Maybe… it's because it was artificial. Maybe there has to be an emotional connection for a knotting to happen. Maybe it is *just* a rumour and werewolves aren't capable of it. Either way, if he didn't knot him now, he's not going to do so again in ten minutes."

"Grasdjf;fv," mumbled Derek.

"We can do this again some other time," Chris placated. "But right now, Derek's waking up and coming back to himself. And we don't want to be here when that happens."

Gerard sniffed. "Fine," he said eventually. "Get the harness. We can use it next time." Derek groaned as Chris moved above him, materials rustling.

Then the two hunters were trotting back to their van and Stiles was left panting beneath a 150kg werewolf.

"Get off of me," Stiles muttered, trying to push Derek's weight off of himself. Derek groaned and rolled sideways. Stiles gasped a lungful of air and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He looked over at Derek whose eyes were glowing only faintly, teeth receded. His nails looked normal.

Stiles stayed there until Derek came back to himself, eyes rolling to latch onto Stiles, chest still heaving. Then suddenly Stiles was standing and hurrying to pull his jeans back up, visually searching for a shoe.

"What happened?" Derek asked, voice thick and rough.

"How am I going to get home?" Stiles asked himself, pointedly ignoring Derek.

"Why am I… what happened to my pants?"

"La la la la la. Maybe I'll walk… you live near here, don't you? You can drive me home… My dad'll be worried sick." Stiles coughed to clear his throat. "We better get going."

"Stiles... I can smell sex and blood."

"And the Argents?"

"Yes… what happened?"

Stiles laughed, tilting his head. "You got hit by some powder mojo. Went all insatiably horny. Weeeeee *hadsex* and then… I got dressed and you woke up."

Stiles flinched away as Derek stood suddenly and moved towards him. "Sorry, I…" Derek pulled his jeans up and did the button and fly on his jeans. "Come here, let me look at you."

"Oh, you've looked plenty," laughed Stiles. "Trust me."

"I can smell blood!" Derek hissed, lunged forward and gripping Stiles. He shoved Stiles' jeans down, the denim sliding with minimal rug burn over narrow hips and thighs. Stiles chocked as Derek pushed him up against a tree and then knelt behind him, face ridiculously close to where another part of Derek was very much acquainted with recently.

"What are you doing!?" hissed Stiles.

Derek sniffed and then a tongue was winding its way through blood tracks, dipping slightly painfully into cuts. "I did this?" and Stiles nodded. Hands gently cupped Stiles' ass and spread his cheeks so Derek could lean forward and lick over Stiles' opening.

"Oh, icky!" Stiles muttered into bark. "You just came there!"

Derek continued to gently hold him open, at mind-shattering counterpart to their earlier interactions, and licked firmly over Stiles' hole.

"You smell of Argent."

"Yeah… well." Stiles bit his lip as Derek started licking his opening as if it were an ice cream. The saliva was nice and cooling where his puffy rim still felt overly warm and ached slightly. Stiles decide to just let it happen, relaxing into the tree when… "They got it on videotape."

"What?"

"They got... they filmed it. They said it was for research purposes."

"…Hm." And Derek went back to licking.

"No, mister sourwolf, this is bad! What if they… what if they show it to someone? What if they put it online!? What if my dad, or, or Scott sees it… Jesus fuck! What is my fucking life?"

"Shhh," said Derek, standing behind him. "I can fix this."

"… Are you capable of knotting someone?"

"Huh?"

"Are you capable of, you know, knotting someone?"

"Explain," murmured Derek with a playful bite to Stile's shoulder.

"Like, a knot… a… tennis ball-sized knot at the base of your cock, which you push into someone?"

"You mean like dogs use to breed?"

"Yeah. Are you capable of that?"

Derek laughed, suddenly and clearly. "Stiles," he said and Stiles laughed despite himself.

"Yeah, you're right, it's silly."

A heavy tongue lapped its way up the back of his neck, making Stiles shiver.

"Don't move," Derek ordered. "My claws are back."

"What?" Stiles looked over his shoulder to where Derek's eyes were burning red again. "Oh, fuck."

The tip of one nail prodded Stile's entrance.

"No, don't!" gasped Stiles. "Your claws! I can't even heal!"

"Shh," said Derek, pushing one finger easily inside of Stiles. "Sh, sh, sh. Let it happen."

Stiles breathed heavily until he felt the finger withdraw. He tensed up again when the scraping feeling came back. He could imagine the yellowed sickle claws resting against the pale white of his ass. "If you open up for it, they'll slip right in."

"You might cut me," Stiles pointed out.

"Sh," Derek whispered straight into Stiles' ear. They were both absolutely still as Derek tickled at Stiles' hole.

"Please, don't," Stiles begged. He gasped and bit his lip as a single claw slid up into him again, moving in and out of him. Derek was breathing heavily behind him. "Is this like round two?" Stiles asked. "It is, isn't it? You still have some funky werewolf mojo in your system. You are getting off on having your, your… talon! Inside of me."

"If I'm very gentle, even as something as dangerous as my claw can be accepted into you," Derek murmured.

"What? Stop trying to make it sound sexy! Danger isn't sexy!" Stiles yelled, hoping his erection would hear him.

"Wait until you try to take my knot."

"What! But I thought that… that was a joke, right?"

Derek, already hard again, and wasn't there something supernatural in that, right there, got a hold of Stile's waist and used it to arch his spine. Stiles felt like he was presenting for mating, which he guessed, technically…

Derek slid into him easily, muscles too worn out to provide any sort of barrier although they did protest weakly. Stiles let out the most embarrassing garbled moan.

"You didn't cum before."

"No. I know that!"

"You will this time," Derek promised.

Stiles scrunched his eyes shut at the flithyhotdirtynaughty promise in Derek's words. He totally had an erection right now.

Derek was much slower this time. He mauled the tree with his nails, Stiles breathing heavily as he was pressed between it and Derek's chest. The first time he felt the knot sink into him, his eyes widened hugely. It was just a bit of extra thickness, he probably wouldn't have even noticed it if he hadn't have known about it.

"Is that-?" he squeaked.

"Go home Isaac," Derek ordered.

Stiles was completely discombobulated for a second. Isaac? Why was Derek calling him Isaac? He wasn't Isaac, was he? Didn't he know an Isaac?

"What are you doing to Stiles!?"

Shit, thought Stiles, suddenly panicking. Scott was here as well. His ass fluttered in panic around Derek's full and heavy cock lodged in his guts.

"I said leave!"

"Get off of Stiles!"

Stiles prayed that his erection was hidden by the tree and/or Derek's body.

"I'll stop fucking him the second he wants me to stop."

"Stiles, tell him!"

"…" Stiles swallowed, still managing to sound strangled when he spoke. "Go away, Scott!"

"Oh man," laughed Isaac. "Can you smell that? Derek's releasing breeding pheromones."

"Huh?" Same clueless Scott. "Stiles, you can't want this!"

"Oh my god… Are you going to breed *Stiles*?" Isaac asked, voice full of wonder and disbelief.

Stiles' lip-biting failed and he released a pent-up moan. This, this type of fucking, Derek's cock sliding in and out of him so he could feel every inch, this was nice. This was hot. He was so going to fucking come. Probably not from the ass-fucking alone, unless Derek changed his angle and found his prostate. But he was so fucking turned on, moans working their way out of his mouth.

"Oh my god," says Isaac and suddenly he's *there*, shoulder pressed against the tree. A cool, unfamiliar hand fondles his hard and leaking dick. "He loves it."

"He does not!" Scott protests. "Stop fucking my best friend!"

"I'm not fucking him. I'm mating him." And damn if that tone isn't 1000% Alpha.

Stiles scrunches up his eyes, ignoring the two other teenagers. He can feel Derek's knot being pushed back and forth, strumming against the delicate skin of his rim. Derek pushes into him, and it's there, a noticeable weight inside of his bowels. Derek changes his thrusts to quick, short and shallow, to make sure his knot stays inside of Stiles as it starts to grow larger.

Stiles whimpers and mewls, hands moving back to clutch Derek's thighs as he leans forward, bark scraping his cheek.

"That's it, bitch," Isaac murmurs encouragingly, getting a good grip on Stiles' dick and starts jerking him. "What a good little girl." Isaac smiles, all teeth and malice. "You'll be such a good mummy in our pack."

"Rnnf. Fuck off!" Stiles says, body rocking back and forwards as Derek swells larger and edges closer to orgasm.

"What does it feel like?" Stiles heard Gerard Argent's voice say. Did they stick around in case this happened? Is he just hallucinating?

"Oh my god," moans Stiles. "Your cock is massive." He grunts out a few breaths. "It feels like my insides are rearranging themselves, wrapping around you so you can fit."

Scott gasps.

"Stiles-"

Derek shoves his tongue into Stiles' ear, making Stiles' eyelids flutter.

"Such a good bitch," Isaac is whispering as he continues to wank Stiles off. It's a nice change from the fullness that is almost painful, Derek's knot so large he couldn't pull it out of Stiles if he wanted to. Isaac leans forward and starts painfully sucking on Stiles' nipples. He's like a possessed vacuum cleaner, adding his teeth in gratuitously.

"Stiles-"

"Leave that," Derek says. "He'll need all of his milk for when the pups arrive."

"Stiles-"

Stiles' eyes jerk open. "Huh? What? What!?"

"I said," yells his father through his bedroom door, "if you want breakfast, you have to get up for school now."

"Yeah! Okay!" Stiles manages to say. "Fine! Thanks!" He sits up, pushing his quilt away. He's breathing heavily, feeling flushed all over. Fuck.

He runs his fingers overs his scalp as his erection twitches in his pyjama pants. "Fuck."


End file.
